You
by foxy.witch
Summary: A series of moments – in between scenes on the show & maybe some au – inspired by the lyrics of 'You' by Keaton Henson. Tony x Ziva. Rated T just to be safe. *Full summary inside
1. Wait

Hi, so I took the song lyrics out, thanks to an anonymous review who kindly let me know I actually wasn't allowed to use them. My bad, still getting the hang of all this stuff years later. :) You can find the lyrics by googling You by Keaton Henson – each chapter is based on a verse. NOW on with the summary.

A series of moments – some like the famous bathroom d'n'm's, some sad and burning like a swig of bourbon, some like that particular photograph taken in paris that would look better in black and white – and all shining a little light on the love between our favourite Mossad Liaison and a Very Special Agent. Friendship/Romance because, with these two, it's the same thing. Rated T because (I'm a nervous wreck) things might be developing that way. I'm not sure at the mo.

Set Season 11: Tony leaving Ziva in Israel.

* * *

He waited for the morning in her arms.

His heart was finally quiet. No longer the storm of grief raging and railing, screaming for Hell and for mercy in the same breath, promising revenge and eternity in the same moment. It had broken – both heart and storm – grown weary and empty of rain. Left nothing but the lingering scent of lightening and a whispering of sand.

Like her. Wild and electric, yet soothing – like the cotton sheets and wrinkled dreams wrapped around them.

They had given themselves this one night. Just this night until morning. To say goodbye. And he hadn't slept, didn't want to miss a second. Neither had she.

The deep pulse of her heart beneath his cheek, its echo ever-reaching until it found the vibrations of his own, was like poetry and he wished he could hold onto this moment – hold onto her – for the rest of his life.

But the curtains let out a sigh and the morning light slipped through and pooled onto the pillow.

Her shiver was as soft and swift as a moth's wing. He breathed her in, knowing she was doing the same, and told himself to let go. Their lips found the other's and couldn't bear anything more than the briefest of touches lest they refuse to let go.

"Shalom," he murmured against against her lips.

"Goodbye," she whispered.


	2. Weep

Thank you for the reviews! So much love xx

Set Season 10 (before 10x11): Ziva, recovering from an injury after a case, stays (at his insistence) with Tony.

* * *

She wakes to the sound of a bomb and the taste of blood in her mouth. Her heart races, pulled by its strings in too many directions, and pounds too fast for her lungs to keep up. Tears burn her throat, claw all the way from the streets of Haifa and spill down her cheeks. She blinks rapidly, trying desperately break free from the last clinging threads of the nightmare. But still it grasps: at bones, at flesh, at guilt. It's an old one but it lingers. Lingers like–

She inhales sharply. Crisp, clean Armani but also fish food… She rolls her head to the side and finds him. She's surprised it takes her this long to realise she's not alone in the room, which she also suddenly remembers is not her own but his. He'd be disappointed with his ninja's reflexes. It's good that he's asleep but he's slumped down in the his chair with his chin leaning on his chest. She frowns. She'd told him she'd take the couch, but he insisted, practically carried her into his bed, and told her _he'd_ take the couch – "Because all Dinozzo's are honourable, thank-you-very-much". Her mouth quirks as she imagines all the complaining about his 'poor neck' he'll inflict on McGee do at work the following day. Or is that day today? Her mind is still not quite free from the haze of dreams.

At some point in the night he must have come to check on her. She dismisses the immediate sense of annoyance that raises its ugly head (and again the nagging worry that her so-called 'ninja' senses hadn't woken her) and instead chooses to smile. His thoughtfulness, something he rarely let's anyone see, is by far one of her favourite things about him.

His jacket, once presumably on his lap, has slunk purposefully to the floor. The image calms her somehow, quiets her thunderous heart and the last of her tears. She watches him – for how long she's not really sure – and it's like the world comes back into focus, slows down, let's her breathe.

And finally sleep without dreams.


	3. Mourn

Thank you for all your kind reviews. x

Au. Set a year after 10x7 'Shell Shock Part II': It is Tali's birthday. This year, Ziva does not mourn alone.

* * *

It is late. The case has been, mercifully, closed and everyone else has gone home – even Gibbs, after what can only be called an affectionate ruffle of her hair and a quietly gruff 'You did good today'.

She keeps her head bowed in front of her computer so he does not see the tears threatening to become a storm.

Since then, she has been staring at the screen in front of her and has seen absolutely nothing except the blinking cursor.

She wants to scream, but she does not have the energy to scream. She wants to cry, rip at her hair, fall to pieces. But she does not. She just sits, hands resting on the computer keys, the silence of the bullpen closing in like the shadows on the orange walls.

Until–

"Zee-Vah, can I borrow you for a minute?"

The exasperation at his nickname draws her, if briefly, from her grief. "As you can see Tony, I am busy. Perhaps another time."

She makes the mistake of glancing up at him and his expression says it all – he is in one of his more _persistent_ moods. Though, she has to admit, the distinct lack of a teasing smile intrigues her.

"Please Ziva." His sudden earnestness catches her off guard, and before she is fully aware of her actions, she is already rising out of her seat and taking his offered hand.

They walk like that – hand in hand, like children, like a fairytale – to the elevator. The quiet does not feel quite as oppressive as it did before, though the ding sounds quite loud. He presses the top button and does not let go of her hand. Neither speak; as always, it seems there is some unspoken agreement between them. She wonders briefly what they must look like from the outside: two colleagues holding hands in an elevator late on a Tuesday night. She does not really know what to think. She glances at him and his eyes inevitably find hers.

The elevator's ding does not distract her from the depth of his green eyes – and for a moment she thinks they might stay there forever – until he leads them out of the elevator and towards the stairs.

He still is yet to make any explanation for their adventure but she finds herself not really minding; his presence and the weight of his hand in hers is comforting.

They reach the top of the stairs and she raises a brow at him. "The roof?" Her voice, though quiet, resonates in the stairwell.

He nods, eyes crinkling at the edges with his soft smile, "The roof." He opens the door and pulls her through.

Ziva has been to the roof before, but never on a night like this. The sky, an inky indigo with streaks of mauve is alight with stars and reminds Ziva of Tali's hair in the sunlight. The lights from the city glint like her eyes when she smiled. The crisp night air surrounds her like her arms on dark nights. She drops his hand and moves to the ledge, closing her eyes and letting the memories wash over her. She can almost hear the phantom of her laugh.

"It's as clear a night as any you'll find in the city. I thought… Well, I thought, seeing as what day it is today, you might like to… To see…" His words fade into the night. She does not even try to keep the storm at bay; tears spill down her cheeks in burning rivers.

She reaches for him and he is there, just as he always is.

"Laila tov, Tali." She whispers.

He squeezes her hand. "Laila tov, Tali," He says.

She does not know how long they stay there: an eternity, a moment – when they are together, it is all the same.

"Laila tov, Tali," They murmur together, and the wind carries their words into the night.


End file.
